Christmas Tradition

Posting this at Christmas is a tradition.
So Merry Christmas to all I’ve known, and all who’ve known me.

Whisky Gift Guide

December is here, and that means you’ll be thinking about presents. Not necessarily for me, although that would be nice. But you know someone who’d like a bottle of whisky. No, you do.

No whisky lover, none of them, want to get a novelty hip flask, okay?

So what should you get them? Bells, Teachers or Johnnie Walker? Well you could if they’re alcoholics and don’t really care what they’re drinking, so long as they’re drinking. Or they have always expressed a particular liking for cheap blends. Or you could show them that you gave it a little thought.

If you’re thinking if a bottle of whisky, but want to spend less than £20, don’t. But between £20-30 there are lots of good standard 8-12 year old bottles. What would I like to open? Glad you asked….

Up to £30

Perfect for someone who’s really helped you out this year. A teacher for example. Or maybe your osteopath, (cough). Let me point you to a 16 year old Lagavulin. Easily available, but not something you’d have chosen just because you saw it during an ad break. Usually found at £30, if you keep your eyes open it’ll often be had for £25.

£30-60

For around £35 you can pick up my favourite 12 year old: Bunnahabhain. If you’ve read this blog at all, you’ll know its merit well. I’ve seen it sold for as much as £55. If you see that, leave the shop.

If you want to spend that much: Thank you. Try finding a Bunnahabhain Ceobanach. It’ll make the lucky recipient think you’ve really done your homework. (And I’m dying to review it!)

£60-150

You want to spend more? What, is it for your new girlfriend’s dad? If you like you could try an 18yr old Highland Park at £75-90. He’s going to hate you anyway, but at least he’ll love the scotch.
Top end of this price bracket, though and you could get a 21yr old Balvenie matured in Port Wood. He’ll hate you even more, simply because now he’ll feel so mean spirited to hate you at all. We’ve all been there.

Pushing the boat out

Unless you have more money than sense, you really shouldn’t spend more than £150 on a bottle of whisky for anyone but yourself, unless you already know it’s a favourite. So you’re off the hook spending more than that.

Merry Christmas. Mine will be if people get the hint.

Mmm, I wonder what it is!

Mmm, I wonder what it is!

On The Twelfth Day Of Christmas…

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Twelve lords a-leaping…

Appearing in court today was Mr Mike Rullove after his bizarre campaign of terror against a local family…

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The moral of the story of ‘The Twelve Days Of Christmas’ is that sometimes the person giving the gifts doesn’t know that they’re unwelcome. They might reasonably think that their gifts are a romantic gesture that’s blowing Daisy away.

Or – as in this case – Daisy was clear and honest with everyone, told Mike to stop and he should’ve done.

But really, who wouldn’t think it a romantic and not annoying gesture to send; twelve jumping lords, twenty-two dancing ladies, thirty pipers, thirty-six drummers, forty milkmaids and their cows, forty-two swans and geese, forty calling birds, thirty french hens, twenty-two turtle doves and a dozen partridges in their respective pear trees?

Although even someone as shallow as Daisy wouldn’t mind about the forty gold rings.

On The Eleventh Day Of Christmas…

On the eleventh day of Christmas my truelove sent to me,
Eleven ladies dancing…

Dear Mr Rullove,

As the solicitor for Miss Daisy Christmas and her family I have been asked to inform you that you and your gifts are no longer welcome at their home. Please do not contact them again, and any further deliveries – new or repeated from previous days – will be considered a section 2 harassment.

You will have fulfilled these criteria because you have been asked now to cease and desist, as is required in such a case.

I would ask you to contact my office at the address above to make arrangements to collect the presents in a timely manner. If you choose not to do so the gifts will be disposed of and the family will send you a bill for any out of pocket expenses.

Daisy assures me that your intentions were well meant, and this is the reason the family are not already seeking charges against you. You are lucky she is so forgiving and not given imagining you are a pantomime villain with evil intent. In the light of her feelings, the family have decided this is appropriate under the circumstances, however now you are aware that your attentions are unwelcome, and know of the distress the gifts are causing to the family and to the neighbourhood, we hope you recognise that you have overplayed your romantic gesture and stop.

Yours sincerely,

A Barrister, QC

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On The Tenth Day Of Christmas…

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Ten pipers piping…

Bagpipes now? What’s wrong with you? The neighbours are on the verge of point of storming the house with flaming torches, and quite frankly I can see their point.

The drummers yesterday were bad enough. Particularly after all the fighting animals and screeching birds keeping everybody awake all night. I think you hate me.

Since Christmas you’ve sent thirty gold rings (thank you, I’ll keep those!), eighteen drummers, twenty four cows and women dressed as milk maids, twenty eight swans, thirty geese,  twenty eight calling birds, twenty four hens, eighteen doves, ten partridges in ten pear trees. And now these people playing bagpipes.

If you keep this up I’m going to the police. 

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On The Ninth Day Of Christmas…

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Nine drummers drumming…

Dear Mike,

I never realised how much the twelve days of Christmas drag on until they become twelve mornings where you dread the next delivery. I thought it was just to do with how long you’re allowed to keep your Christmas decorations up.

It doesn’t matter what you send anyway. We’ve had a letter from the council. There’ve been complaints from the neighbours and the council think we have an unregistered zoo. They’re going to fine us if we don’t get rid of all the birds. The council noise abatement people turned up just as nine bloody drummers came around the corner. And all the sodding birds, cows, and the rest. What the hell do you expect me to do with them all. You can only eat so many eggs, chickens and geese. The swans attacked the geese. The screeching and squawking was unbearable. Have you ever tried to stop a fight between two dozen massive flapping birds? It’s impossible. It’s downright dangerous. What’s worse, it scared the cows, and they trampled the garden

I’ve asked you to stop, but you just don’t. And now we’re in trouble. We’re going to get fined, sued and maybe even arrested.

Why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me!

Daisy.

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On The Eighth Day Of Christmas…

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Eight maids a-milking…

Mike,

Are you taking the piss? Why have you sent me a bunch of women dressed as milk maids, each with a cow in tow?

Dad’s livid. The cows trampled all over the front garden, and you think he was cross about the bird mess in the conservatory? That’s nothing compared to the cows.

All the birds again. Well, we let the doves go straight away, and dad took the chickens and geese into the back garden and did for them. Thank god he’s not squeamish, wight them all running around after he’d taken their heads off with the hand axe. Why he said your name each time, I’m not sure.

But look, I said stop. You must. Now.

Daisy.

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On The Seventh Day Of Christmas…

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Seven swans a-swimming…

Dear Micheal,

Happy new year. I suppose, but after a very late night being woken by a delivery of swans, geese, singing birds, hens, and doves at seven o’clock this morning wasn’t the best start to a year we could’ve had. And I wish the blasted things would shut up. In honesty, the novelty is wearing off and I have a hangover. The noise isn’t helping.

At least we can kill the chickens, the geese and all the rest, and eat them. But not swans. If we kill them we’re in trouble.

Dad’s ready to brain you. The girls were so impressed last night, but this morning they’d happily kill you too, and I can see their point.

You have to stop now, you’ve taken it too far.

Yours, Daisy.

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On The Sixth Day Of Christmas…

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Six geese a-laying…

Dear Mike,

Geese? Really? And all the other birds again?

I thought you were onto jewellery. But now it’s twelve calling birds, twelve hens, twelve doves (okay, only four are left), six partridges, six pear trees, and ten gold rings. It’s very generous, but I’m beginning to see Dad’s point. Thank heavens it’ll all stop tomorrow with new year.

The girls got here. They’re spending half the time taking the mickey out of Dad for all the gifts I’m getting, and half the time taking the mickey out of me. I think they’re jealous.

But… Really, enough of the birds. They’ve been lovely, but we’re already having to give away chickens and partridges. It doesn’t seem right for you to send me presents you know I’ll be giving away. We just don’t have the space for them. So no more, okay darling?

Happy new year for tonight. I’ll be thinking of you at midnight.

Daisy x

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On The Fifth Day Of Christmas…

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Five gold rings…

Dear Mike,

I think if it had just been five gold rings Dad would’ve been happier. But four more calling birds, three more hens, two more doves, a partridge and another pear tree he got a bit cross about it. But thank god you’re off your bird fixation and onto jewellery! Much less likely to get up Dad’s nose. Not to mention the neighbours.

You’ll be pleased to know that I caught the doves this time. Dad won’t let me keep them in the conservatory for long, though. He says the partridges are making enough mess, and if there’s going to be a bunch of doves crapping all over the place, too, I’ll have to do the cleaning up. You wouldn’t want me to have to clean up after the birds, would you. No, of course not.

Lots more fresh eggs for breakfast though, he wasn’t complaining about that, and we didn’t have to search the garden because the hens were all in the new chicken run.

All the time we can hear the eight calling birds singing away. Dad says he could hear them all night, too. I think he was happy about that.

Two days until New Year. We’re all so excited, and of course January is when I see you again.

All my love,

Daisy

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